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March 25, 2024

Ghost Love

By George Gad Economou

Ghost Love

it was faraway lands we dreamt of, and you
made the longest trip possible, to the one destination
from whence there's no return.

after the funeral, I went to the dive; the place we met,
danced under "Purple Rain", got drunk, and ended up
in my dorm room -- drinking more beer, having fantastic sex.

who'd have thought that one night would turn into the nine
most magnificent and wild months?

I drank you away -- tried to anyway --

while women came to me, trying to decipher
my teary eyes; I shooed them all away,

for once, I couldn't leap into the next adventure.

after a short while, and several shots of bourbon and tequila and quite a
few beers,

I left; shambled to the bus, back to the apartment that was
home -- though never felt like one sans when you were there --

for so damn long.

drank some more; constantly trying to drink and write you away.

failing.

drunk all the time, somehow finding comfort in the haze
of booze and drugs because I felt
as if you were right next to me, indulging to the same
vices.

in drunkenness, I feel your hand in mine,
your soft voice landing in my ear, tingling my dazed mind.

I looked to my right -- you weren't there.
I looked to my left -- nope, still gone.

more bottles drained; still bottles are drained, still
boozing most days away, unwilling to function
in the cannibalistic society.

I still fucking miss your hand in mine,
your hair in my face as we slept in a stoned embrace.

what keeps me alive are the wild acid dreams
of you making a fool of the Devil, drinking the bastard
under the table,

preparing His kingdom for my arrival -- we're taking over,
as we promised Him the night we drank and shot junk with Him
on that blue couch of mine.

bourbon and gin and tonics,
beers are reserved for maintaining a healthy pace,

and countless of cigarette stubs cover the ashtray.

the words keep flowing,

your image once more pops in my head, a couple of tears roll.

recounting the hundreds of embraces that tried to replace yours;
and all failed miserably.

bourbon love song, once more for my fallen angel that left
the world too soon and now is outdrinking the Devil
without me.






Article © George Gad Economou. All rights reserved.
Published on 2022-04-11
Image(s) are public domain.
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